


Teach Me Just What Fast Is

by Zee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, D/s themes, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, flexible figure skaters having bendy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: “You don't like it when other people tell you what to do,” Otabek said, “but you accept it from me. Why is that?”
Yuri likes it when Otabek bosses him around, and Otabek calls him on it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty vague on when this takes place, but it's at least a year after the current events of the anime.   
> Title is from Lana Del Rey's "Diet Mountain Dew."

“You don't like it when people tell you what to do,” Otabek observed as they made their way through the rush hour crowds in the train station. They'd just left a press conference where Yuri had gotten into a fight with a reporter and he was still fuming about it, still itching to further rip into the man even though he'd yelled ‘enough’ according to Yakov.

“Of course not,” Yuri grumbled, turning his glare on Otabek. “What's your point?”

Otabek didn't react to Yuri’s ire, giving him a calm glance before his gaze flicked back to the train platform ahead. “You don't like it when _other_ people tell you what to do,” he repeated, and Yuri was not in the mood for this slow meandering musing, he was going to snap, “but you accept it from me. Why is that?”

Whatever words Yuri had been about to yell died in his throat. Otabek, damn him, wasn't even looking to see what reaction his question had caused, which actually might be for the best since Yuri was turning red. He could hardly believe Otabek was bringing this up in public; although he'd said nothing that might scandalize a bystander, Yuri felt paranoid that everyone around him could read his mind and make the connection between this topic and his blush. 

Last night they’d had a long day of training followed by a night of drinking and watching the final day Skate Canada International on TV, during which Yuri had said horrible things about each skater in the competition and in response Otabek had sometimes nodded in agreement, sometimes smiled at him with affection and sometimes rolled his eyes. It was their usual routine. Afterwards, as soon as they'd stepped inside the door of the apartment they were renting in St. Petersburg for the season, Otabek had stepped behind Yuri and taken him by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, pinning him with his hips and putting his mouth close to his ear.

“Not another word about the silver medalist or the judges,” Otabek said, his voice only exactly as loud as he needed it to be. “And don't move.”

They hadn't even closed the front door all the way. Yuri shivered, his mind pleasantly buzzing from the beer his older boyfriend had bought for him. The wall was cool against his cheek where Otabek was pressing his face into it, and he was already getting hard.

He hadn't spoken another word about the Skate Canada results, at least not that night. He stood obediently still in the hallway while Otabek got his pants down, jerked him off and fingered him, keeping Yuri pinned against the wall the whole time. He let Otabek carry him to their bedroom and spread him open, fingering him some more (for ages, not listening when Yuri said he was ready to be fucked for real now, not obeying the way Yuri obeyed him) before pressing him deep into the mattress just as he'd pressed him into the door and fucking him hard enough and long enough that Yuri had passed out immediately afterward, blissfully unconscious despite the agitated state he'd been in after watching the competition.

And now Otabek was asking him why, as if that was something Yuri understood. Yuri glared up at the back of Otabek’s head, the cropped hair of his stupid undercut that had already grown out long compared to how closely shaved it was when they'd first reunited for the season, and thought about kicking him.

Denying it would be pointless, so instead Yuri snarled, “Don't ask me that! What do you care, anyway? Want me to yell at you instead?”

Otabek looked at him, blinking. “No, I don't. It was just a question. You know I'm not making fun of you, right?”

Yuri hesitated, deflating slightly. He did know that. His usual hostility and defensiveness wasn’t necessary between them, it never had been. 

Otabek’s hand touched Yuri’s elbow, further settling him, and he leaned down until he could speak low in Yuri’s ear, with no chance of anyone overhearing. “And I wasn't just asking about sex. I meant… all of it. The way you are with me.”

It was a fair question. Yuri was always content to let Otabek take him places, to let Otabek speak for him to waiters or hotel staff or any of the people milling around skating competitions that Yuri didn't care about speaking to himself (which was almost all of them). He didn't mind Otabek taking the lead. If he was being honest, he liked it.

“Is it because I'm older than you?” Now Yuri could hear a faint note of consternation in Otabek’s voice, like this was the possibility that _really_ concerned him. When Yuri looked up to meet his eyes, there was a faint worry line creased between his eyebrows. 

“JJ’s older than me,” Yuri said. “You don't see me taking orders from him or sucking his dick, do you?” The last part of this question was hard to get out without shuddering, but Yuri did it because he wanted to even the scales a bit and fluster Otabek, and he didn't stumble on a single word.

It paid off: Otabek’s cheeks bloomed pink. “You don't have to be gross,” he muttered, and Yuri grinned savagely. “And I don't give you orders.” 

“Yeah, but you could.” The words slipped out half-consciously, without a thought, and Yuri immediately wanted to clap a hand over his mouth. Otabek’s eyes widened.

“Uh,” Otabek said, and they were saved for the moment by the noisy arrival of their train. Yuri stepped forward amongst the crush of the crowd, and inside the train was standing room only, and there was no more discussion.

Yuri could feel Otabek’s presence beside him the whole trip. Despite the crowding of the train, other passengers were pressed much closer to Yuri than he was, unfortunately touching him. Not Otabek. Otabek was giving him space.

Yuri would much prefer Otabek crowd him than any of these strangers, regardless of any discomfort he might feel at Otabek's directness and his honesty.

Yuri was a little afraid that their conversation would make things awkward once they were alone, but Otabek kissed him as soon as he'd stepped inside the door and tossed his bag aside. Yuri responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Otabek's neck and clinging to him, relief making his shoulders sag.

But it was slightly different. Otabek was keeping the kiss chaste, and he wasn't--wasn't _moving_ at all, wasn't bending Yuri back or pushing his hands under his shirt or picking him up so that Yuri could wrap his legs around otabek's waist. There wasn’t the physicality that Yuri had come to associate with being kissed by Otabek.

He wasn't taking the initiative, Yuri realized. Frustrated, he twisted his fingers in Otabek's hair and yanked. Otabek yelped, and Yuri nipped at his bottom lip.

“Come on,” he said, meeting Otabek’s startled look with a glare. “Come on, Beka.”

Otabek stared, and then intensity shifted back into his expression, and Yuri felt a ripple of excited warmth respond in his own groin. He started to grin but Otabek was already kissing him again, harder this time, with more teeth the way Yuri liked it. Yuri melted into him and was rewarded with otabek's hands on his back and his ass, supporting him, keeping him close.

Otabek walked them into the bedroom and then shoved Yuri towards the bed, tossing him with enough force that he bounced a bit upon hitting the mattress. Yuri didn't have a second to contemplate how being thrown onto a bed made him feel like a character in a trashy romance novel (but in a good way, somehow) before Otabek was on top of him again, one of his thighs bracketing Yuri’s hips and his hands planted on either side of Yuri’s neck.

He kissed a line down Yuri's throat, pulling his t-shirt to the side to access skin that was covered by Yuri's costumes when he skated--the only places they allowed each other to leave marks. Then Otabek was traveling further down Yuri's body until he was kneeling on the floor between Yuri’s legs, and Yuri let his head fall back and gasped.

Otabek blew him with a single-minded intensity, sliding his mouth most of the way down Yuri’s cock right away and then keeping up a steady rhythm without pausing to use his tongue or catch his breath. His hands were on Yuri’s hips, keeping him from thrusting too hard and making Otabek gag, and as much as Yuri wanted to move he liked being held down more.

He let himself be loud, because he knew Otabek liked it (“you yowl like a cat,” he'd told Yuri the second time they'd had sex, and Yuri had hit him with a pillow), and he felt Otabek's fingers flex on his hips when Yuri cried out. When Otabek pulled back far enough to mouth the head, he let Yuri push the tip of his cock into the roof of his mouth, over and over until Yuri grabbed clumsily at Otabek's head and came. 

Yuri didn't let go until he was spent, dazedly realizing as his body went limp on the mattress that he'd been clutching Otabek's ear, of all things. If Otabek minded, he didn't say anything, just pressing a kiss to Yuri’s hip before wiping his mouth and climbing back onto the bed.

They both had most of their clothes still on. Yuri rolled lazily onto his side as Otabek settled next to him, and made a pleased sound when Otabek took the hint, spooning him.

Yuri could feel the hard bulge in Otabek's pants when he pushed back. Otabek was working already, tugging Yuri's pants all the way off and coaxing Yuri to lift his arms so that his shirt could be peeled off. Yuri heard the sound of Otabek unbuckling his own belt, felt Otabek move slightly back in order to get his own clothes off. It was a little slow and awkward doing this when they were both lying on their sides but Yuri didn't feel like moving. He liked looking at the wall in front of him and listening to the rustle of Otabek's clothes, the hitch of his breath behind him.

And then they were skin to skin, and Yuri felt Otabek's dick (already a little slippery with pre-come) slide against the crease of his thighs. Yuri bent his knee and slid his leg forward to give Otabek better access, and then felt Otabek’s fingers rub behind his balls and circle his asshole.

The lube bottle was still in the covers somewhere after being tossed carelessly aside last night, and Yuri found it after not too much groping in the sheets, handing it back over his shoulder to Otabek.

Otabek’s dick was pretty big, which was why he was usually careful to use his fingers a lot beforehand and use plenty of lube. Yuri appreciated the thought, but he was impatient right now and not in the mood to beg and plead to be fucked the way he had last night. Otabek seemed to be of the same mind, though, because he slipped his two fingers out before too long and Yuri felt him grip his thigh instead, lifting Yuri’s leg up to get the angle right. It would be easier to do this in another position, but Otabek seemed to want it this way, and Yuri found it kind of exciting.

Otabek huffed a laugh into Yuri’s shoulder. “You're pointing your toes,” he murmured. “I can feel it in your muscles bunching.” He ran a hand up Yuri’s thigh for emphasis, and Yuri started. It was just his automatic impulse to raise his leg fully and point his toes, like he was stretching or doing a floor exercise. 

“You can relax, Yurochka.” Otabek’s voice was a pleasant rumble against the back of his neck, and Yuri consciously relaxed his muscles, letting his knee bend and his ankle be loose. 

After Otabek used his hand to help guide his dick into Yuri’s hole, he held the crook of Yuri’s knee, supporting his leg to allow him to relax even further. Yuri loved this part, loved feeling Otabek push all the way inside him for the first time, until he felt stretched and filled. Then Otabek began to move, gently at first and then with enough force that Yuri could feel the shocks of each thrust reverberate through his whole body.

Since they'd rented this apartment and thus had the opportunity to do this as often as they wanted, Yuri had discovered it was his favorite way to wind down after pushing his body to its limits on the ice or in Lillia’s classroom. He felt worn out afterward in a way that was different from the usual exhaustion in his muscles. It was a good workout, sure, and especially when they did stuff like this it was particularly good for his hip flexors. But he liked that it made his ass sore in such a specific way; liked knowing exactly why he was feeling tender when he woke the next morning. 

Otabek gripped Yuri’s leg harder when he came, bending his leg up enough that Yuri’s knee was almost at his ear. Yuri didn't mind; he liked the idea of Otabek bending his body this way and that, taking advantage of the flexibility Yuri was relentless about maintaining. Then Otabek was shuddering and gasping into Yuri’s shoulder as he finished, releasing Yuri's leg and curling into him. Yuri reached back to stroke his hair, and Otabek caught his hand, kissed his fingers.

Afterward, once they'd disentangled and rolled to a part of the bed that wasn't messy from sex (their lube was lost in the covers again, and again Yuri was too lazy to bother fishing it out and putting it away), Otabek brought up his question from earlier.

“So why do you like me to take charge? You never actually answered,” he said, idly tucking a strand of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. 

Yuri snorted. “I don't know, why does anyone like anything that helps them come?”

“No, I meant. Why let _me?_ ”

And now Yuri understood why Otabek wanted to know, why he was trying to puzzle out this dynamic that they'd fallen into organically, almost subconsciously, without any proposal ever being verbalized or accepted by either party. He wanted to know why Yuri wanted this from him, specifically. He was right that Yuri acted differently around him than he did around everyone else, correct in assuming that Yuri wouldn’t embrace this with just anyone. 

Why Otabek? That had been answered for Yuri before the question had even thought to form. Otabek had slotted neatly into Yuri’s life the second Yuri had made the decision to climb onto his bike in Barcelona, stepping into a friend-shaped void before Yuri had even realized that the void was there in the first place. When friendship had abruptly shifted into something more a few months ago, Yuri put just as little conscious thought into it. It seemed natural, easy in contrast to so much else in Yuri’s life that felt like a constant battle.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of reasons, I guess.” Yuri was using Otabek’s bicep like a pillow, and when he rubbed his cheek against the warm skin he felt his arm twitch just a bit. 

The first reason that occurred to him was something he wasn’t sure he should say--he didn’t want to give Otabek the wrong idea. The truth was that if Yuri really thought about why he liked following Otabek’s lead, it had something to do with his grandfather. Not that Yuri thought of his grandfather when he looked at Otabek, and they didn’t have similar personalities. One didn’t remind him of the other. 

But Otabek had a kind of calm certainty to him, a sense of all-rightness that was immediately apparent in the set of his shoulders, in the indifference on his face whenever he looked at people he was about to be blunt to. He didn’t move through the world with uncertainty and fire burning in his ribcage and making him furious, like Yuri did. And Yuri didn’t think it had anything to do with age--Yakov didn’t have this quality, Lillia didn’t have it. They were both too neurotic. 

But his grandfather did, and maybe that was why being with his grandfather felt like resting. Being with Otabek restored something in him in much the same way.

Yuri didn’t know how to say any of this and Otabek was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. He was no longer playing with Yuri’s hair. Now they were just looking at each other, and Yuri knew that he would lose this waiting game. Otabek was too patient.

“You just make it easy to be that way,” Yuri said. “You make it feel… nice. Like I can relax for a while, let someone else push me.”

“Instead of always pushing yourself,” Otabek said, and Yuri nodded, relieved that Otabek seemed to understand. 

“I’m happy to do that for you, as long as you want me to,” Otabek said. Yuri shoved at his chest, not hard, just enough to make Otabek lose that somber tone.

“Idiot, I want you to. I’ll keep wanting you to, okay?” Yuri kissed Otabek firmly, keeping their lips locked until Otabek relaxed against him and opened his mouth, letting Yuri lick at his teeth. 

The kissing went on for a while, and somehow Yuri ended up on top, straddling Otabek’s lap without making a purposeful decision to do so. He let his nose drag down Otabek’s cheek and nuzzled at his ear, catching his earlobe between his teeth. Otabek sighed, a mellow contented sound that reminded Yuri that he wanted to sleep soon. 

“You like it too, don’t you,” Yuri flicked his tongue against the shell of Otabek’s ear and Otabek’s hands found his hips, squeezing him.

“Yeah,” Otabek said. “I like pushing you around.” He said it softly, like he was almost bashful, and then his hands moved up Yuri’s torso and he was flipping them, landing Yuri on his back. Yuri laughed, and went with it.


End file.
